#lynnlie

Hanging out at Kyle’s place, not thinking about anything-- promise

"Tell her she better give me what I want or else, Betty Crocker." And with that Cory threw the blonde to the side and bolted out, shifting to someone who worked there as to not seem suspicious and darted out into the streets, leaving the girl gasping for breath and wondering what the fuck Lynn had gotten herself into.

Spend my days locked in a haze Trying to forget you babe I fall back down

Note taped to the bedroom window-- “I keep my promises.”

There was a kind of haze in the night as Lynn made her way down the road.  She would have guessed it was fog (this was a coastal Northern California town after all), but for some reason it seemed to saturate Club Dead and Club Dead only.  She never had really figured out what it was, but eventually decided it was the owner’s doing to create a “mysterious” atmosphere. But whatever; she was here on business. The Asian girl flashed her ID to the bouncer before stepping into the establishment and looking around.  It wasn’t really her scene—pretentious snobs that hid in booths under dim lighting while some random resident “talent” husked out an old school jazz tune.  Luckily, she wasn’t here for pleasure now, and Charlie didn’t seem like she was that intent on experiencing the place, so she wouldn’t have to stomach it then either. The dhampir stepped up to the bar and asked for a name, to which the vamp behind the counter pointed her down a ways to a short corridor and an office door.  The petite girl raised a hand and knocked, wasting no time slipping in when a voice answered.  She eyed distastefully the blonde sitting behind the desk in front of her: still sexy, absolutely, with his scruffy hair, angled features, and newly scruffy facial hair that gave him a darker but no less dapper look.  However, he was also fidgety, and impatient-looking, even as he merely marked notes in his ledger.  He looked up and though she was certain it wasn’t his intention, Lynn could see Ford’s muscles visibly relax just at the sight of her.   “You called?” she asked suspiciously, shutting the door and moving closer to him, though choosing to stand behind the chair he’d gestured to instead of sitting.  “Said it was an emergency, which, considering I don’t really like you, made for a puzzling situation.” “Sparked your interest enough to show though,” he replied, smirking at her before he started rifling through his desk in search of something.  “It’s been hell these last two days—everything’s sped up, so I’m hungry more, I’m feeling more, and yet everything is…muted.  It’s infuriating.”  The dark-haired girl arched her eyebrows and nodded with a smug expression—vampires of any sort getting bound was always curious.  Being completely human was a hell of an adjustment, with the increase of your body’s functions-- heartrate, cell function, energy input-to-output ratio-- and yet you couldn’t do anything you were by now used to: the increased senses and abilities, the bloodlust—it was all taken from you, and from what she understood, left you a little hollow and out of sorts.  Watching Ford, she had a feeling it was affecting him badly.  Not that she felt sympathy for the other dhampir.  Apparently finding what he was after, he looked back up at her.  “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I need your help.”  He held up a familiar packet to her.  “Or more appropriately, your services.” Lynn’s eyes narrowed at the request and she instantly turned back to the door.  She listened as the chair scraped across the hardwood floor and the older boy scurried around the table to get to her.  “Seriously Lynn,” Ford insisted, grabbing the younger girl’s arm impulsively, and the girl smelled the wafting booze saturating his skin.  “I’m going mad here.  I can’t help any of my customers—“ “I know,” she hissed, jerking her arm away and glaring at him.  “Two days and they’ve already begun pestering me.”  It had been infuriating honestly.  Ford was a lot less picky about his people, and they were in various states of idiocy and withdrawal as they approached her in desperation.  She’d had to get forceful around some of them as she turned them down—she wasn’t a vending machine, after all.  You couldn’t just throw cash at her and expect her to deliver.  She made her own calls, did her own recruiting; and she didn’t like the types of people that the blue-eyed boy took in. “—and it’s starting to become an issue,” he finished, ignoring her statement.  Lynn took a step away from him and gave him an appraising gaze.  He really didn’t look so good, honestly, but she’d figured that had to do with the discomfort of being reduced to human.  Now she paid special attention to the way his hands trembled slightly, the beads of sweat accumulated beneath the curled locks framing his forehead, his shallow breath.  Ford looked…well, bad.  He leaned in toward the Agency daughter.  “I can’t do this by myself—drinking blood does nothing for this body.  I just…I know I’m not at the top of your list, but I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate.” Lynn kept her expression stony, but she didn’t move to leave.  She may not approve of Ford’s methods, but she also felt sympathetic to his plight—sort of.  More importantly, she could feel her mind ticking away at the ways she could make this work in her favor.  “I do this,” she told him lowly.  “You steer clear of my people.  All of them.”  The younger girl gave him a pointed look.  “Not just my customers.  The Runners—that Warg?  The geopath?  The otter?  Those are my toys; you put your grubby hands anywhere near them again, and I rip out your spine.”  Ford inhaled audibly, bristling at the demands, but he nodded curtly.   The Asian girl took the packet from him and investigated it warily.  It was similar to her product, though she could sense the proportion changes.  “Xanthos make this?”  Ford’s head bobbed sharply again, and she bit her lip in consideration.  Lynn made it a rule not to trip out on others’ stashes, but she didn’t have any of her own stuff on her, and she did trust the alchemist that apparently supplied them both… Five minutes later the two dhampirs were sprawled out in the back office of Club Dead, staring at the ceiling in fascination.  Lynn wasn’t sure if it was better than her own stuff, but it definitely had panache. “So what’s your story with the Runners?” the bookkeeper asked with a slur, brushing his hands against his bleeding neck and bringing the fluids to his mouth.  “Didn’t that Super give you the brush-off anyways?  I would have thought you would have been right there with us giving him his comeuppance.” The petite girl rolled slightly to stare, blackened-eyes a mix of disgust and incredulity.  “Yeah, because I’m one of those people that has to gang up on a guy to leave a mark.” “I was sure he wouldn’t roll over,” Ford insisted dreamily, remembering the night in a fog as he continued staring at the paint above him.  “He’s stubborn as hell—I kept waiting for that wall to slam into me at any minute; never happened.  Disappointing really-- was sure a good fight would come of it.” Lynn rolled her eyes, though she did feel slightly comforted by the dhampir’s words.  The two of them were similar, and she’d been horrified that the boy would have actively become part of a mob like that.  However, knowing he was simply hoping for an interesting fight—well, while not right, it made a lot more sense.  “Well apparently not.  So stay the fuck away from him.  He’s my doll and I need him to play house right.”  Her mind was starting to drift with the herbs in her system. “And who is the wifey in your house?” he asked curiously.  “The otter?  A bit straight-laced for you, isn’t she?” “Not straight,” Lynn giggled drunkenly, a rush of memory causing a jolt in her system as her heart rate picked up infinitesimally. “Ah, yes, but still—what does your dutiful girl think of this sort of shadowy, shady lifestyle?” the boy insisted.  His compatriot didn’t reply except to roll her eyes, which was apparently telling enough to the powerless half-vampire.  “I see—playing the upstanding citizen by day, taking advantage of her purposeful blindness to the rumors?” “Rumors are always blown out of proportion,” Lynn stated petulantly, causing Ford to laugh before responding.  “I see—so we’re not sitting in an office right now, completely and illegally intoxicated from a banned substance?  Is that the case?” The small girl rolled her eyes again, and the older boy sighed.  “You tell yourself she’s better for not knowing, and she is—you both are.  The less she knows about this world the more you can enjoy happy playtime, where you’re just two birds singing about love and normalcy.  But sooner or later, no matter how careful you are, it all comes out.  Someone she knows will be affected, and she’ll never understand.  She’ll either hate you for hurting them—no matter how indirectly—or worse, she’ll try to make excuses by forcing you into the victim’s chair, and attempt to “fix” you.  And we both know we are not creatures to be fixed: there’s nothing wrong with us after all.  We are merely bowing to our nature, which will never be hers.  And she’ll never understand it; never accept it.  You will resent her for it, and your toy will be lost.” Lynn’s eyes narrowed with each passing sentence until they were thin slits by the end of Ford’s speech—this was not the conversation she wanted to be having on her trip, especially as it tended to weigh so heavily on her so often.  She didn’t want the irritating dhampir to understand her situation so well, to speak as if it was formulaic, like he knew exactly where it was going because that was the fate for all of their kind.  Angry and still inebriated, she stumbled to her feet.  “I don’t remember asking you for your advice.  I also don’t remember you being pronounced the town Love Guru, and you’re forgetting that I am most definitely not you.  And even if this game doesn’t pan out,” she continued, uneven footing moving backward toward the door, “it’s just that—a game.  I could care less if I lose one toy, because there are dozens to play with in this town.” “And yet you want me to stay away from everyone associated with this one.” “Because right now they’re mine, and I don’t share.”  Lynn was fully incensed now as Ford called her out on her attachment.  She fumbled at the door as she found the knob.  “And you know what?  I hope you have a good trip for the rest of the night, because it’s the last time we’re ever doing this.  So have fun being clean for 2 months.  Dick.”  She growled, causing the blackened veins under her eyes to become a little more pronounced as she stormed from the room.  It was probably a testament to the type of place she’d entered that no one from the office to the exit either noticed or cared.

Charlie Fabray and Lynn Yang at varying levels of amusement out and about town